The altar had been set up since the third week of his disappearance; a prayer place for the prodigal son whose soul his mother hoped for everyday. She went to drinking not soon after that, falling into the helpless weakness his father had fallen into years before in their marriage.

Ironic though it was, he had gone sober after their divorce.

Needless to say, that is where he found her. She was kneeling on a futon, lighting candles around his picture with a long stemmed match from a pretty little box in a drawer in the altar. Fresh flowers were placed everyday and the tapered candles always lit. The first few times Takeru had seen her, he had shed hot tears every time; for his missing brother, for his mother's pain, for his lonely father. For his own heart, which seemed to crumble a bit more all the time, until a numbness had settled in it that scared him a bit. But seeing all of this pain constantly didn't rest well in his heart or in his faith. Yamato would come back if they stopped crying. They just had to have hope.

Takeru arrived in the backroom beside the kitchen quietly, watching from the doorway as his mother closed her crystalline blue eyes and bowed her head, her hands coming together palm to palm. She recited the ritual prayer in her melodic voice, only a few tears touching her tone. How lovely she was, he always thought, his beautiful mother who had nurtured him all his life. How Yamato had resented her after the divorce. How he had loved her, fiercely, protectively, nonetheless. If he could see her now, see the state she was in...

Where in Kami-sama's name are you, oniisan?

But as always, there was no answer.


The Scattering: Three

It was past six when the knock came at the door.

Takeru looked up from the counter, the sound of the boiling ramen he was making for dinner the only company he had while he concentrated on his homework. His mother was in her bedroom, the door closed, the TV on quietly. The knock sounded again and he got up from his stool, passing the empty living room on his way to the door.

A yawn escaped him as he reached the door and he glanced out through the side window with teary-eyes, frowning and wiping blurriness away when he saw who had come a knocking. "Hikari?"

He couldn't help the nervous feeling in his stomach, and after clearing his throat quietly and running fingers through his messy hair, he opened the door slowly. He cursed his pale complexion when he felt the rush of blood to his face. "Yagami-san?"

She glanced up from the careful consideration she was giving her shoes and gave a faint smile, biting her lip a bit. "Takahashi-kun, I wasn't sure if you'd be home."

Where else would I be? But he didn't voice it, not wanting to sound like a moron.

She bit her lip again, and it took him a moment to recognize it, but when he did, it hit him quite suddenly. Yagami Hikari was… nervous. Nervous.

Takeru marveled at the realization, so much so that he completely forgot his manners and it wasn't until she cleared her throat that he realized he hadn't asked her to come in yet. He shook his head, and stepped back from the doorway, bowing his head a bit and blushing harder. "Yagami-san, please, come in."

"Domo," she murmured, stepping into the foyer and slipping out of her shoes. She followed him into the kitchen. "Did I interrupt your dinner?" she asked once she saw the boiling pot and his bowl waiting. She glanced at him, her eyes anxious. "I'll leave. Really. I didn't mean to interrupt."

But he shook his head quickly and circled the counter, turning off the pilot as it was already boiling. "No, no, it's okay. Would you like some, actually?"

"No, thank you. Mama is expecting me. I just needed to stop by quickly."

"Oh…?" He tried to make it sound like a statement more than a question, almost like a girl visiting him at home was not something out of the ordinary. But his curiosity betrayed him, so he tried to recover by clearing his throat and busying himself in the sink, keeping his back to her. "What can I help you with?"

She didn't speak for a moment, which struck him as odd, because Hikari was not one to hesitate when speaking her mind. Sure, she was polite and mannered, but she held strongly to her beliefs, something he admired in her.

"Ah, the article you saw today…? The one about your brother?" She paused again and he wondered briefly if she had noticed the way his shoulders tensed. "I—I wrote the article, Takeru."

He wasn't sure why he felt the grip of ice around his stomach; it shouldn't have affected him really. She was a journalist, that's what journalists did. They wrote articles, some of them without much thought for the way they might affect those close to the subject... So why the feeling of betrayal?

"I—I'm sorry…"

But here was why it came as such a blow; she herself was acknowledging the betrayal.

He didn't speak, didn't turn to look at her. He frowned at the clean sink for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, his grip on the tile hard, making his knuckles white.

"I didn't mean to cause you any pain, Takahashi-kun. I just… The editor liked it and she said those type of stories are good, everyone likes to read them." She paused. "Well, not everybody…"

"So it was a marketing tactic, so to speak."

"No, nothing like that!" She sounded perturbed and he didn't relish the thought of looking at her when she was floundering, not when he admired her strength of character so much. So he kept facing the wall. "I didn't mean it that way, Takeru. It was more out of respect. He was a part of our school; I thought it was only fitting."

Was… That word by itself brought ire to his throat, made his hackles rise.

They remained like that for a moment, neither saying anything, before Hikari sighed and spoke again. "I'm sorry it affected you negatively, Takahashi-kun. I didn't want that at all." And he heard her leave, closing the door quietly behind her.

It was only after his mother padded into the kitchen, her gaze sleepy and lost that he finally took a deep breath and slackened his grip on the sink. "Dinner, okaasan."


He dreamt again that night, of what he couldn't quite recall. It was disjointed, of shadows and arrows of light. But this time, there was also his brother's silhouette and a girl with ruby eyes sitting at his feet, her eyes bright as flames. He stumbled through school, like usual. He noticed Daisuke watched him with what he guessed was concern in those claret eyes. Hikari and he tried to approach a couple of times, but Takeru always turned and went the other way, not caring to be bothered. It got to the point where Daisuke only watched from afar, while Hikari kept her back stiff and constantly to him. He didn't mind. He was oblivious. He doodled.

It was during his free period that they started whispering, a nagging murmur that started low at first, but grew progressively worse, her hushed giggles unraveling his frayed concentration. He had been staring at the pages of his history book, reading through hidden messages students of the past had inscribed in them. Their songs of undying love that had lasted no more than three months before the tunes had changed and the music had been burned. These thoughts all tremble when her low giggles reached him, the sound slithering to wrap around his throat and choke him momentarily.

He raised his hand for the bathroom pass and quickly exited; hoping the study period would be over by the time he returned from his trip.

It wasn't until lunch came around that he remembered his new acquaintance. She waited for him at the door, yawning, but waking up quite suddenly when she saw him, smiling. "Takeru."

Her use of his first name made him uneasy; he didn't know this girl, really. And yet she hooked her arm in his, like they were the best of pals and led him away from the stares towards the roof once again. She was still wearing her green uniform and three silver earrings in each ear. She also smelled like coffee, he noticed. An intoxicating odor that reminded him of his mother's working days, when she used to be up at half past six, half dressed in a suit sheath and furry slippers, armed with chopsticks and a cup of coffee, scrambling a quick breakfast of eggs for him before she was gone for the day. Home always used to smell of coffee before her breakdown.

"I brought enough for both of us," she announced, and he was quite happy to oblige her by sharing. There was no conversation, only food and long looks into the distant horizon. He didn't feel as uncomfortable as he had expected.

That is, until… "You could've brought your friends along."

"What friends?" As soon as he blurted it, he wished he'd swallowed the words. He hoped she couldn't see his blush under the cover of his hat. Or at least that she took it as impending sun stroke.

"The girl with the boy hair-cut and the guy with the goggles. Although I didn't know you could wear headgear in this school…" she trailed off thoughtfully.

He couldn't help the stab of annoyance. "Your hair is short, too." His blush deepened at the accusation in his tone… of course he had to retaliate like a seven year old.

She blinked, caught by surprise, before grinning at him impishly. "My hair is longer, though," she said simply.

His brows furrowed and he studied his mostly gone meal. He felt her eyes on him.

"Sorry, didn't know you liked her."

"I don't."

"Okay."

He glanced at her, at her innocent face and frowned again, in confusion this time. "No argument?"

She shrugged and lay back on the pavement. "What for?"

"I dunno…" He leaned back, too, but didn't lie down, instead resting his weight on his elbows. He didn't get her, really. She was so confusing, yet so irritatingly simple. Instead of giving himself the time to wonder on this, he changed the subject, hoping to find a normal topic of conversation. "What school do you come from?"

"Nowhere near here." Her eyes were closed and he wondered if she was going to fall asleep.

To prevent her from doing that, he probed further. "Which one?"

"Kyoto."

"The private academy?"

"No…"

He frowned, laying back as well, his thoughts lazy as he folded his hands beneath his head. His arm was grazing her shoulders and he felt a slight shiver, but he ignored it. "You couldn't have gone to the university, could you?" He felt the way her shoulders tensed and wondered once again why.

"The intermediate school," she finally muttered.

"Oh… No, but I meant what high school before this one."

She stayed quiet for so long that he wondered if she was even going to answer him. But he didn't worry about it too much. The day was soft, the light not strong enough to bother his eyes. It was tranquil, the noise of the other students seeming miles away...

"What do you dream about?"

He froze and turned his head to look at her so quickly it hurt his neck. "Nani?"

But her eyes were still closed. "What do you dream of?" And when she opened those ruby orbs and turned to focus them on him, he was sharply reminded of—"Did you dream of me?"

He sat up completely, his scalp tingling. Her gaze was disconcerting. "What? Why are you—"

"Did you? Who else was there?"

"I don't… What are you talking about?"

He slid back slowly on his rump because she was sitting up and was leaning closer to him, her eyes bright with speculation. "Was it just me, Takeru? Or was someone else there? Who was it?"

"I don't know—"

But she had gotten too close, her bright eyes searching his face for answers only he could give. Her eyes were hungry and he felt like he was burning, her warm breath on his cheek making him so nervous that he lost his balance, landing on his back with a thump.

"'Keru!"

He jerked awake and opened his eyes to the bright sunshine above him. "What…?"

"Well that was surprisingly rude of you, kid. Falling asleep in the middle of my conversation." But she didn't seem angry; just stared down at him quizzically. She shook her head before standing up and brushing her skirt off. "We gotta go anyway. Bell just rung."

He stared up at her, trying to recover his wits. "Nani…"

"Come on, moron, we have to go or you'll be late." And she dragged him up by the arm, surprisingly strong for such a skinny girl and began running towards the door, not giving him time to catch up with his thoughts.


To be continued…

(Yes, Krys, I'm continuing because of your comment in one of my reviews. I thought no one particularly cared for this piece of fiction. Lol.)